I’m an artist. And as I put my makeup on this morning, it struck me that a face is just like a canvas. I carefully apply foundation with a sponge, smoothing out the light coverage, to be sure there are no ‘lines’. I’ve gotten to the point (yes, I admit it) that I use a magnifying mirror that’s mounted on the wall next to my vanity. It keeps the eyeliner straight and thin, and the mascara where it ought to be…. on my lashes and NOT brushing my cheekbones.
I keep a light touch with my brushes. And as I work, I remind myself to appreciate my eyes that – despite emergency surgery, vision correction and years of contacts – still see everything I look at. My mouth, that opens (maybe sometimes too often) to let my voice emerge. My teeth, which while far from perfect and never tamed by orthodontia, work perfectly well, and fill my smile, not to mention keep me enjoying all kinds of tasty, wonderful food!
I brush the blush along the cheekbones that have come down from my grandmother, through my dad, to me. I spy a few fine lines at the corners of my eyes that I can only contribute to laughing out loud as many times as I can find a reason – and sometimes just for fun. And the ‘bangs’ I now cultivate (“BangTox” as my friend calls them) finely veil the fine forehead lines that have come slowly in.
Is that the start of a ‘crease’ beginning to deepen from the corners of my mouth to the base of my short nose? Perhaps. I know they’ll come in time. I’m not in a hurry for them, of course, but I’m not planning on ‘stopping’ them either. I’d rather have ‘marionette’ lines that look like a puppet from getting things ‘done’, I’ve already decided.
Not a bad face for 63, I think. Not bad at all. What? Am I crazy??? This face is MINE. The one and only ME. The one I was born with and the one I’ll wear till I move to the next plane. My face for a lifetime!
I look in the mirror again. Not bad? It’s GREAT! I’m taking care of it, and I’ve renewed my promise to take time to appreciate it more every day.